


Whats wrong with the title, Han?

by Weresnake



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Dead Pennywise (IT), M/M, References to Depression, Yearning, even though you hardly remember such trauma, unpacking childhood trauma because someones gotta do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weresnake/pseuds/Weresnake
Summary: His phone pings again and he checks it. It’s Bill and the letter seems to be about the details of the story he's working on. It isn’t exactly the books pitch that makes his face scrunch up and audibly mutter “what?” outloud  but the vague sense of deja vu that comes from it. He fidgets for a second, wondering if it would be polite to note his first criticism but perhaps if he phrased it in a way he knew Bill wouldn’t mind…Han again,I just was wondering if you could elaborate more on the premise, and why you picked that title? I don’t mean to offend, I'm just curious about the story being about a gaggle of kids fighting a clown.Han,Bill hires a new editor after his last book flops and from the very start, he enjoys working with the mysterious new guy. As he stays cooped up in his home, Bill continues writing his story with the help of this "Han" person while also living rather vicariously through the travels of this fascinating guy hes grown so close to.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, YEAH I DID THAT - Relationship, background reddie - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Whats wrong with the title, Han?

**Author's Note:**

> Fellow mothers and fuckers of this fandom, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it.  
> I already have a middle and end plotted out with some key moments written anyways so this will end up completed. Also Bill is such a disaster, i love it

Looking up from his laptop, he does a doubletake at seeing the light of tomorrow morning filtering through his closed blinds. It felt like just minutes ago when he first booted his computer on. He blinks hard, and sucks in a long breathe to suppress a groan as he begins stretching. Every bone in the upper half of his body pops like a grisly role call from his stretch and he deflates even more from the soreness aching in him afterwards.  
Just like the time he worked overnight like the day before, he weighs the pros and cons of writing from dusk until dawn.  
On one hand, he’s made excellent work on his next novel. It wouldn’t be in the best quality he can offer but that’s the purpose of a rough draft, its just a shaky first step. Working through the night until morning also meant he wasn’t wasting time reading shit reviews of his last published work, and letting himself plunge down a rabbit hole of self-loathing. Sure it had it’s faults, but reviewers tend to behave like locusts; they just swarm at any crumbs to feed on. With his last book he had given them a feast to ridicule.  


Now, the cons were not so subtle. The burning of his tired, dry eyes, the lack of sleep burning his mind, and the stiff back are the first that come to mind. He felt like the embodiment of Newtons first law, an object stuck in bed writing for hours will want to stay in bed, writing until the sun explodes outside the coffin that is this silent room.  
Or, until you feel a cool line run down your neck as the fatty tissue of your brain starts leaking out of one ear; something he felt was about to happen if he didn’t start his day properly like decent human.  
He smacks his lips and finally climbs out of bed with the mental image locked in his head. 

While the Keurig warms up to make him his cup of joe, he leans over the cool white counter to check his inbox for any new emails since he started writing yesterday.  
Coupons for online stores, fan mail, notifications for his social media accounts he didn’t dare open, an unopened email he recognized from his divorce lawyer (which makes him grimace), then-  
A new email slides in, its handle being different then the others and the subject greeting him with a polite little. “Hello,”  
He glances over as the machine gurgles out steaming coffee into the dull gray cup, wondering for a brief second about whether this mug was the one he washed last week or last month, then shakes his head back to reading the new message. 

> Hello, 
> 
> I understand that you need an editor? I don’t have much of a resume on that front, but I have worked on the textbooks for the local schools for a good many years, if that counts for anything. Oh, and I’ve moderated some Wikipedia articles on my off time, despite my sub-par understanding of today’s technology.  
>  I’d be happy to hear from you about a possible arrangement if you’re interested.  
> 
> 
> -Han.

Bringing the mug up to his mouth, Bill sips the near scalding coffee and mulls over the digital letter. From the sound of it, this person sounded kind enough to use his wealth of experience on his work to help the story. Someone who wouldn’t try wrestling for control of the story or, act like a snob like he’s seen in worse editors. They wouldn’t just be highlighting spelling errors, grammatical blips, and some rough pacing, but more then that. He bitterly remembers the first reviews for his last book. Apparently people didn’t like the story building up for the protagonist to overcome their nightmare in the storm drain, only for it to end with the child’s life bleeding away in the black ink of the story’s final pages. It wasn’t happy or satisfactory for that matter, many had said.  
‘It was meant to be that way,’ he answered back, but nonetheless he withdrew further away from the public as nothing would satisfy his critics.  
Taking another sip he types, deletes, then retypes a reply that was positive and casual but not overly so. 

> Hi Han!  
> 
> 
> I am very much interested in hiring you on as an editor, I just need to know some information and figure out the best way I can send you a sample of my work to get a feel of your ability after discussing more important things.  
>  I look forward to working with you as well.  
> 
> 
> Bill Denbrough

There. Not too intimidating but not too casual. Its phrasing makes him sound like he has the personality of a dead fish, but this kind of corporate sounding letter is perfect for business. It was practically the only thing Bill recalled learning while he worked as an intern during his later college years. He’s made the joke before about calling himself bilingual because of how fluent he is in the digital equivalent of a retail voice.  
He clicks send and downs the rest of his coffee, idly wondering if he cared enough to shave his face.  


Across the continent, a man’s phone dings and he fishes it out to check. Squatting down beside his dusty truck, he squints at the small screen and gets so giddy he nearly drops it when he sees the sender. The dry air kicks up more dust from the dunes he’s standing in, far away from Massachusetts. It doesn’t even cross his mind how much data he’s burning, opening the app to read it.  
His eyes scan it a first, then second time. While typing a brief, equally polite response the tip of his tongue pokes out and recoils from the taste of the salt on his lips from the dry, hot air. Happy with his reply, he hits send and settles back in his car.

Inside is a calculated mess of maps, dirt, and the luggage he needed. He usually packs the bare minimum and works from there, but this trip he wanted to rent one of high-powered telescopes to look at the stars after walking through the sand dunes. The equipment was given extra covering so that no sand or dust could get in to mess with the intricate machinery (as they were ridiculously expensive to replace if damaged in the slightest). He still remembers the instructions and demonstration the person he lent it from gave. They looked old enough to be his grandfather but walked and talked like he was unfazed of death.  


‘It’s a bit like hunting, when you are pointing the telescope at the sky,’ they began, ‘hunting not to kill but to to find the the stars and the moons with your tiny scope and admire the radiance of them all. There’s just something so intimate about loving the celestial bodies from the safety of afar.’  


With that sentiment shelved away in Mikes head, he rubs the back of his neck in thought. It felt a bit odd, knowing only last night he made an impulsive decision to email his old friend about the position and the next moment he actually gets the job under an anonymous guise. Most of him only guessed his email would get chucked aside for looking like spam in favor for someone better at their actual job.  
Ah well, whatever happens, happens. He supposed.  
Then, his phone pings again and he checks it. It’s Bill and the letter seems to be about the details of the story. It isn’t the books pitch that makes his face scrunch up and audibly mutter “what?” outloud. He fidgets for a second, wondering if it would be polite to note his first criticism but perhaps if he phrased it in a way he knew Bill wouldn’t mind…

> Han again,  
> 
> 
> I just was wondering if you could elaborate more on the premise, and why you picked that title? I don’t mean to offend, I'm just curious about the story being about a gaggle of kids fighting a clown.  
> 
> 
> Han,

**Author's Note:**

> Mike: he doesn't remember, does he?


End file.
